When 66-year-old cardiologist Jean-Jacques Monsuez slipped one arm out of his blue-and-white checkered shirt and offered it to a nurse holding a syringe with the Pfizer COVID-19 vaccine, he did what many in the world has done. plan to do so as soon as they get a chance.
Just not in France.
This is perhaps the land of Louis Pasteur, the scientist known for discovering the principles of vaccination. But it is also one of the most reluctant countries in the world to get the COVID-19 shot, leading to the lowest survey so far of any developed country to start vaccinating its citizens.
In the first six days after the vaccine was rolled out across Europe in a coordinated EU effort on December 27, only 516 people were shot in France – such a low number out of a population of 67 million that it is statistically not from zero is indistinguishable. In contrast, in the first week, Germany vaccinated more than 200,000 of its inhabitants and Italy more than 100,000.
For Monsuez, the decision to get the injection was, of course, for his own safety and for his family and patients.
“There is a duty. You see one sick after another, ‘he said, adding:’ It did not hurt. I felt the same before and after. ”
But many of his countrymen seem to disagree. In a poll conducted last month by Ipsos Global Advisor in collaboration with the World Economic Forum, only 40% of French residents said they intended to be vaccinated. This caused France to die last out of the 15 countries surveyed, in stark contrast to countries such as Britain and the US, where 77% and 69% of respondents, respectively, are eager to be vaccinated.
The Gallic hesitation stems from various factors. Many people mention here concerns about possible side effects and the speed with which the vaccines were developed. Distrust of the government has increased as a result of erroneous mistakes in dealing with the pandemic and from memories of previous health and vaccine scandals in France.
A cumbersome process of consent has hampered the vaccination campaign in some cases. And leading health professionals have complained about the lack of a clear official strategy to introduce the vaccines and to convince people of their value and effectiveness.
Over the weekend, President Emmanuel Macron – who survived his own attack with COVID-19 – promised that the rate of vaccination would pick up quickly and powerfully, and authorities added more than 50 health workers to the list of eligible for the shot.
Anne Muraro, an art advisor, is in no hurry to get in line. “We do not know what the secondary effects are,” said Muraro, 50. “It’s too fast. There is not enough afterwards. ”
Muraro cited the new messenger RNA technology in the Pfizer-BioNTech vaccine as a cause of discomfort. The same technology is also used in the Modern COVID-19 vaccine, which has not yet been authorized in Europe. Many in France are concerned that the vaccine has been rushed to the market in part for the financial benefit of large pharmaceutical companies.
While such problems may be understandable given the relatively short time the vaccine has been circulating, it does not reflect the medical community’s understanding of vaccine development and approval, says Catherine Hill, a retired epidemiologist in Paris. And the seriousness of the public health emergency facing France calls for people to act for the COVID-19 shots, she said.
The country is one of the hardest hit in Europe, with 2.7 million confirmed cases of coronavirus and 65,164 deaths, according to a version from Johns Hopkins University. After two full locks, residents are currently under curfew, and pubs, restaurants and cultural attractions remain closed. Officials have promised to ease these restrictions once the number of new cases drops below 5,000 a day, a target that still seems far away.
“This virus kills 400 people a day in France,” Hill said. “Imagine a big plane falling from the sky every day.”
In a television interview last weekend, French Health Minister Olivier Veran defended the slow pace of vaccinations, saying France would catch up with its European neighbors by the end of the month.
Veran’s management of the coronavirus crisis has inspired some distrust among his countrymen. He said early on that masks were ‘unnecessary’ to the general public. Wearing a mask has been mandatory ever since, and many in France believe that its initial advice came from a shortage of supplies that the government did not want to aggravate rather than a sound health policy.
As for the vaccinations, a health department spokesman said it would “not be useful” to launch a public information campaign now, as most people in France would only be eligible for a vaccination in the spring. shot after residents in nursing homes are preferred. and to health workers in the front line.
French Health Minister Olivier Veran is in talks with a woman as he attends the vaccination of health workers at the Hotel Dieu Hospital in Paris on Monday.
(Martin Bureau / AFP / Getty Images)
The country’s recent history with new vaccines has sparked public skepticism. At the end of 2009, the French government ordered far too many doses of the H1N1 flu vaccine, for which there was little demand, leading to accusations of financial mismanagement.
More pertinently, there was concern that the hepatitis B vaccine given in France in the 1990s was linked to an increase in multiple sclerosis. Several studies have examined the link, with divergent conclusions. In 2002, the World Health Organization confirmed that, despite a slightly increased odds ratio observed in the initial studies, no one had a statistically significant increased risk. ‘Many here remain unconvinced.
Edvart Vignot’s sister developed MS after receiving the hepatitis B vaccine, which is partly why he prefers to wait and see what side effects the COVID-19 vaccine can have before someone leaves a needle in his arm. stab. Vignot, who is a partner of Muraro, also wants to hear what scientists have not linked to governments or pharmaceutical companies.
“We need other people,” he said, “independent experts.”
The most important thing is also to win over GPs and pharmacists, on whom the French rely heavily. Eliette Gauthier, who lives in a suburb of Bordeaux, said she was not yet sure if she was going to be vaccinated, mainly because her doctor had told her he did not have enough information to advise her in any way. .
The 71-year-old retired schoolteacher said: “We do not have enough information about the composition”. “I’m going to see what my doctor advises.”
France’s vaccination campaign was further captured by a complicated consent process that required pre-vaccination consultations with patients to secure their consent. Since the campaign is currently elderly in retirement homes, some of which suffer from cognitive problems, the process was particularly difficult.
Meanwhile, both Muraro and Vignot are taking other preventative measures, such as taking social distances, wearing masks and taking vitamin D, which some experts say could prevent infection. The couple had long since given up the handshake or greeted friends with kisses on the cheek, as was the French custom until the pandemic broke out.
And both have already had the coronavirus, which leads them to believe that for the time being they probably have some immunity.
Muraro said she will take the vaccine again in the fall, when she is likely to be eligible and when the risk of transmission is likely to increase as people with colder weather have to move indoors.
Frederic Adnet, head of emergency medicine at the Avicenne Hospital in the suburbs north of Paris, believes that most people in France are like Muraro and Vignot: they do not want to take the vaccine, but follow a wait-and-see approach.
“If they see that it is effective and safe, opinions will change,” Adnet said, adding that the high vaccination rates in the US and the UK should help increase public confidence here. “I think the French are reasonable, and in two months’ time you will see us all screaming that there is not enough vaccine.”
El-Faizy is a special correspondent.